Like many, once COVID-19 hit in March, I brushed it off as a temporary issue. I naively (or maybe optimistically) assumed that by late spring things would be back to normal. The company I was contracted to work for at the time had very ambitious plans to return us to the office, stagger our workdays, and subsequently stress everyone TF out. Before they could enact said “plan,” Governor Andrew Cuomo stepped in and shut it all down.
OK, cool. I was relieved to spend more time at home, but what I didn’t anticipate was my anxiety to soar. Those who live in Brooklyn (and perhaps parts of the city) can recall those weeks in late March/early April where once the sun set, there was a chorus of ambulances and helicopters until the wee hours. It. Was. Awful. My mind was constantly racing, and I started getting insanely nervous about the “future” of my career—especially since it revolved around beauty, and lipstick was literally the last thing on everyone’s minds. I pushed down my fears, thankful that a contract would hold me over as everything went on pause.
Then the furloughs and layoffs hit from all around. Coworkers, friends, acquaintances—you name it—suddenly went from thriving in their careers to wondering if they would ever return. Think pieces started circulating about “the future of beauty,” and I swiftly emailed my therapist. It was clear shit was changing, for better or for worse—the least I could do was prepare myself mentally. Naturally, this was also when the productivity police appeared, reminding us to “eat better, maximize our time, start hobbies, lose weight.” The pressure to perform or live up to these expectations felt crippling. How long was this going to last?!
Photo: Courtesy of Janell M. Hickman-Kirby... Read More
As if all this wasn’t enough, George Floyd happened and triggered an unprecedented social movement that forced all industries to question if they were doing enough. Companies I could barely get to email me back suddenly were interested in “diverse and inclusive” content. It was a catch-22 because the burden suddenly fell on creators of color to fix systemic issues to help save face. IMO, it was a bit unfair—for years gatekeepers had kept a group of people out yet wanting them to jump at every opportunity presented. I spoke to many of my peers to see if it was just me, but the consensus was that the demands were increasing, but sadly, the bandwidth was not. I tried to pass along any projects I could not take on directly to my network of badass freelancers to keep the coins in my community. Consider it a Band-Aid on a floodgate—the beauty landscape had work to do, and frankly, it still does.
By June/July I had lost track of the number of days I had been under self-imposed lockdown. My saving grace was that my close friends were all within walking distance. One of my best friends even walked from Gramercy to Brooklyn to see me, because why not?! As the weather warmed up, so did my attitude about juggling it all. I was able to work outside on the patio, I felt comfortable socializing with small groups...essentially, things still felt weird, but not as bad as the previous months. Outdoor dining was back, the parks were open, and I felt less confined to my physical apartment. We ended up taking a socially distanced staycation in Hudson, NY, and I traveled to see my parents in Minneapolis after spending months apart.
Photo: Courtesy of Janell M. Hickman-Kirby... Read More
Careerwise, August was a pivotal turning point. Nothing notable happened, but I just recall waking up and deciding that if I was going to work from my Brooklyn apartment indefinitely, I had to at least be happy. After two months of overcommitting and stretching myself too thin, I was not the most pleasant person to be around. I could complain, or I could do something. I started bowing out of contracts that didn’t make sense for me personally, saying no to stories I had no interest in, and hired a business coach to help me find my “why”: supporting and creating content for minority and/or women-owned businesses. Is cutting ties in the midst of such uncertain times wise? Not sure; however, I felt a hell of a lot better.
Oh, did I mention that I was supposed to get married? Ha. After going on a planning hiatus from March until May, my now-husband (silver lining, we did it!) found out from our venue in July that, no, our 120+ person wedding in New Mexico was in fact not going to happen. The backup plan was planning a new ceremony within 90 days that was closer to home. I could wax poetic about the difficulties of planning a wedding during a pandemic, or I could recognize what a privilege it was to still get married to the love of my life. As a team we learned tons about who was on our team—and who wasn’t—and recognized that navigating challenging times is so much better with a partner. We tied the knot on September 20, 2020, with a mix of our family (in-person) and friends (remotely) on a rooftop in the Brooklyn Navy Yard. I could not have asked for a better day. It was as close to perfect as I could have predicted.
With 2020 coming to a close, I am yearning for a true break to reassess what is meaningful and what I can leave behind. This year definitely has been a mix of high highs and low lows. I caught myself being on autopilot earlier on during this “experience,” if you will, just mindlessly getting through the day. But once I started to embrace the unknown journey, things felt less scary. The lesson of this year? Literally, everything is out of my control and always has been. 2020 taught me a new type of flexibility and served as a reminder that things shockingly can fall apart—and come right back together again.
Photos: Courtesy of Janell M. Hickman-Kirby
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